Gotham Tales - Trembling
by Darth Yoshi
Summary: Batgirl returns from a mission and can't stop shaking


Gotham Tales – Trembling by C.W. Blaine

Gotham Tales – Trembling

By C.W. Blaine ([darth_yoshi@yahoo.com][1])

DISCLAIMER: Barbara Gordon™, Batgirl™, Robin™, Batman™ and Gotham City™ are all © 2001 by DC Comics Inc. and are used here without permission for non-profit, fan entertainment only. Use of these characters does constitute a copyright infringement, but simply because DC Comics Inc. does not wish exercise it's rights as the copyright holder should not be taken as an endorsement of this story. 

The lyrics for _The Kid Is Hot Tonite_ were taken from the CD "Loverboy Classics – Their Greatest Hits" and is © 1994. They were used without permission, so please purchase this CD to keep them from attacking me….

This original story is © 2001 by C.W. Blaine. All comments, questions and concerns may be directed to the address above. Please do not archive without informing the author.

_Why am I trembling?_

_ _

The thought echoed in her mind as she stumbled through the window, falling to the floor in a sweaty heap. She was lucky her father was working late, for the noise of her return to the Gordon household would have surely brought him running, service revolver at the ready. She pulled off the yellow gloves and the pungent odor of sweaty flesh trapped in leather assailed her senses. Rolling back, she laid back against the wall below the windowsill, trying to control her breathing that was erratic as the involuntary movements of her muscles.

Reaching up behind her, she tried to blindly grab the bottom of the window and shut it, but soon just gave up. The air was cooler than her body and it was a welcome relief. She looked over at the alarm clock next to her bed and knew she was going to be very tired the next day. She reached for the zipper on her side and removed the Batgirl costume. She was shivering worse now as she stumbled into the hallway, clad only in her underclothes. She made it to the bathroom without falling and gave a silent thanks to God above. 

She started her shower and finished undressing. The hot water did little to alleviate her quaking. She reached for the soap and couldn't hold it. Falling from her hand, it landed on her small toe and she cursed in a most un-ladylike manner. She bent over to check the damage when her posterior touched the cold shower wall, not yet heated by the water. With a yelp, she stumbled forward, hitting her head on the opposite side.

_After all I've been through tonight…I'm going to get my ass kicked by my bathroom!_

She rubbed her head and felt a small bump starting to form. The shaking had not stopped. Never in her life had she ever felt this. Yes, she had shook before, in fear and despair. When her parents had died, she had shaken and the first time she had encountered the Batman (but both of those were understandable), but never had she trembled so violently and at the same time been so…

Aroused?

Was that it; was that the feeling that was creeping slowly through her nerves, making her synapses burn? Is this what it was like when a woman was…horny? Was that the right word? She silently berated herself for trying to dissect her emotions, to try and play off her desire by substituting it with cool, _nerdy_ logic. By no means was Barbara Gordon stupid, but when it came to the ways of a woman, for lack of a better expression, she was extremely naïve. While not a virgin (that was another story entirely), she had to admit that it seemed that men got a hell of a lot more out of intimacy then women did.

Well, until what happened tonight…

And I didn't even have sex… 

_ _

_But I'd sure like to now!_

_ _

_I think…_

_ _

The shower went on without any further incident and she slowly walked back to her bedroom clad in a towel, her red hair dripping water onto the floor. She needed to brush it before finally getting into bed, though she didn't believe she would get any sleep. She was still trembling.

She hit the radio button on her alarm clock and immediately picked up the lyrics of the song playing. It was a favorite from her childhood, a little old for her, but still good. As she brushed her hair, the classic sounds of Loverboy screamed out the little speaker:

_"…How do you like him so far?_

_How do you like his show?_

_How do you like the way he rocks_

And the way he rolls? How do you like his image? How do you like his style? How do you like the way he looks And the way he smiles?" 

She stopped brushing her hair as the chorus began and looked in the mirror. She was flushed, and it had nothing to do with the hot shower. She felt feverish. 

She felt ridiculous.

She took in a deep breath and counted to ten, a silly thing to do when you thought about it really hard. However, it seemed to help and she went back to her brushing. The nights' events kept playing over and over in her mind's eye and soon brushing her hair was more trouble than what it was worth. Disgusted, she threw the brush down and then turned off the radio. Turning the light off next, she plopped into bed, still clad in her towel, wet, stringy hair looking like a Medusa's nest. 

Damn him! Damn him! Damn him! 

Cursing him did not make her feel better, as she continued to have hot flashes. If she didn't take care of it soon, she would burst, and she had few options open to her. As she began going over them, it became apparent that there was only one answer and her anger became even greater. She imagined him laughing, probably watching from the rooftop next door, and knowing what he had done to her.

And he had acted so innocent! Damn him! 

She flopped over onto her back and pulled the towel off, then realizing she never had closed the window. The air was now very cool and goose flesh sprang up all over her body. She was angry and embarrassed, at herself and her situation. It wasn't that what she had to do was all that bad…she snorted at the thought.

I am only human! 

She resolved herself to get down to business, so she could get some sleep and allowed her mind to drift back to only a few hours before…

"This is a little out your league, Bat-Chick," Robin said, a cocky grin on his face. Behind him, the Batman remained silent. Obviously, the youth took the silence as the go ahead to continue. "This is one of the toughest street gangs in Gotham, and they have to be taken down tonight. You might break a nail."

Batgirl wanted to slap him upside his juvenile head, but she knew he was laying the manure on thick tonight. He was trying to impress his Lord and Master. In the recent months she had begun to tag along with Batman and Robin, she had started to notice a change in the Teen Wonder's attitude. She assumed it was jealousy. When he was out playing "group hug" with the Teen Titans, she was backing up the Batman in Gotham City.

Of course, Batman did hang out with the Justice League now and again, leaving her to fend for herself.

"Listen, little boy," she began in her most stern tone. He immediately straightened up, which brought him about one inch shorter than her. She didn't know how old he was, but he couldn't have been more than 16, whereas the Batman seemed…ancient. "Batman says I'm good enough to come along, and that's the way it is."

"Who do you think you are, sister?" he asked, trying to sound manly, but looking funny with the orange vest and little green booties and shorts.

"Enough."

Both of the younger heroes turned to the Dark Knight. Robin was about to say something, but then held his tongue. Batgirl stepped back and then the next thing she knew, she was falling. Over the side of the Gotham Towers she had gone, so caught up in her rivalry with Robin she had failed to notice how close to the edge she had been. 

She immediately reached for her batline as gravity continued to pull her to the ground's embrace. It would be simple to throw it up and snag the roof. The Batman had trained her after all. As she pulled it out, fear and horror ripped into her brain as she saw that the line was tangled. She had failed the first rule of Super-Hero 101: always check your equipment before you went out!

As she plummeted to the Earth below, a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She saw her entire life playing out like a videotape on Friday night. Suddenly, something grabbed her flailing arms, something strong. Her descent seemed to immediately stop, though her brain told her that was impossible. She looked up to see Robin's face, grinning at her. "Don't worry…I won't let you go."

The finality of the words, the tone of his voice made her believe right then and there that there was nothing more true. God's promise to Abraham was nothing compared to the conviction she sensed coming from this boy's eyes. Boy? No, this was a man, albeit a young man, but in every other sense, this was what he would be as he got older. 

She saw a thin cord wrapped around his ankle and she knew that even with his training and the flexibility of the line, he must have nearly torn his leg out when he caught her. Only two or three seconds had passed, she believed, since she had fallen and here he was, like a guardian angel…no, like a Superman, swooping to rescue her without a second thought. She saw the muscles of his forearms flex as he held her weight and she felt the strangest tingle in her stomach. Despite their situation, her eyes drifted to his legs, the muscles taught with exertion and strain and she actually found herself thankful for the little green shorts.

They started to move slowly up as the Batman reeled in the cord. He continued to smile. "You scared me there for a second." 

She tried to say something back but found her lips trembling. She made a sound, but she might as well have belched from the expression on his face. She then noticed his smell, a sweet odor that was not pungent or overwhelming. It was the most intoxicating thing she had ever encountered. As her mind started to drift, she felt them being pulled over the edge. As she lay there panting, he stood over her. "Thank you, you saved my life," she said.

Again the smile, but without the cockiness. "That's what I'm here for."

And she was sure that was the truth.

After reviewing the night's events and putting them into perspective, Barbara finally found herself calmed down and reached for the robe she kept on the floor (housekeeping just wasn't something she was very good at!). As she put her hand down, she felt cold leather on her fingertips. It was her glove, but her mind made it his. Was he really there? Was she just assuming it was her glove? She could still feel his grip, holding her arms fast. He had been so strong, so powerful...so sure of himself…

Her pulse began to race and all of the feelings she had previously defeated returned with reinforcements.

Not again! Damn him!  I'm still trembling… 

   [1]: mailto:darth_yoshi@yahoo.com



End file.
